


Home Improvement

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, Rodney and power tools.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Improvement

**Author's Note:**

> Written for casa_mcshep on livejournal.

After nearly a decade in the Pegasus galaxy, Rodney would have thought he had seen hell – the interior of a Wraith hive, the wrong end of a Genii weapon, a harvest festival that lasted eight straight days – but it turned out all of that had merely been training for the Pearl City Home Depot on a Friday afternoon.

“Remember, we're only buying what we need for your project,” Rodney reminded John as he bounded ahead like an eager puppy.

“Yeah, yeah,” John said, waving a hand, and it was then that Rodney knew he was doomed to spend the next several hours in the Home Improvement Zone, which was similar to the Twilight Zone for the sheer terror and madness it inspired, except the Twilight Zone didn't make you want to max out your credit cards.

“I still don't see why we couldn't hire somebody to build the deck,” he grumbled as John herded him toward the entrance.

“Because there's a real satisfaction that comes from doing something yourself,” John explained, as if to a three-year-old.

“Uh-huh,” Rodney said, still unconvinced, though digging in his heels at this point would just mean that John would wear out the soles of Rodney's shoes dragging him along the asphalt.

“Ooh, look!” John said, sidetracked by a display of teak patio furniture near the door. “What do you think of that?”

“I think it's distracting us from our true purpose,” Rodney said firmly, taking John by the elbow and doing a little herding of his own.

It was futile, of course, because places like this were designed to suck the soul out of your body through your wallet, not to mention bend time in such a diabolical way that you lost an entire afternoon without even realizing it. If someone had asked him before he went in, Rodney's plan for storming the stronghold of American do-it-yourself consumerism would have been as follows:

1\. Go directly to the lumber desk with the scale drawing and the list of supplies and have the minimum wage slave schlep the appropriate quantities and sizes of pressure-treated wood, galvanized screws and footings to the truck;

2\. Pay;

3\. Get the hell out.

What actually happened was more like this:

1\. A man in an orange apron with far too much hair and eyes only for John tried to sell them a hot tub, and nearly succeeded;

2\. Rodney was accosted by a woman demonstrating the technique of rag rolling, and only escaped by imitating the look he'd seen Ronon get when he was about to go on a killing spree;

3\. John bought four power tools when he only needed three because if he bought four, the fifth one was free;

4\. They spent at least twenty minutes arguing the advantages of charcoal (John) over propane (Rodney) until John kissed him in the middle of the barbecue aisle, totally derailing Rodney's superior argument;

5\. Rodney lost an irrecoverable portion of his life in the model kitchen section, contemplating engineered marble countertops;

6\. John bought six tiki torches despite the fact that Rodney felt solar powered deck lights were much more practical (not to mention tasteful);

7\. At some point the madness took hold and Rodney felt the siren song of capitalism yodeling through his veins. He looked over at John and saw an answering glint in his eyes, and they then wandered aimlessly through the store like Hansel and Gretel after they'd strayed from the bread crumb trail;

8\. They finally made it to the lumber desk with the scale drawing and the list of supplies, and schlepped the appropriate quantities and sizes of pressure-treated wood, galvanized screws and footings to the truck themselves, which was an ill-advised idea considering the McKay family's tendency toward herniated disks;

9\. On the way, they arranged to have the patio furniture and the charcoal barbecue delivered;

10\. Rodney paid cash just for the satisfaction of holding up all the other sufferers behind him in line while the clerk checked the wad of hundreds under a black light;

11\. They got the hell out.

12\. But not before they put a down payment on the hot tub.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Rodney folded his arms. “You want me to what?”

John wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He was wearing those frayed denim shorts that were so thin they left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Rodney had a damned good imagination, especially when it came to John. “Oh, I don't know,” John drawled. “Help?”

Rodney lifted his chin. “I can help. I'll call the carpenter right now.”

“I don't want you to call the carpenter,” John muttered, folding his arms in response. “Look, the circular saw has a laser guide. I can show you how –”

“Thank you, but I was really looking forward to three weeks of laser-free living.”

John ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, the thing is, I thought this was something – ”

“Something that would eat up a considerable part of our precious vacation?” Rodney snapped, more than a little surprised at the venom he heard in his own voice. “Something that would leave you covered in sawdust and too exhausted at the end of the day to – to –” he made an unmistakable hand gesture.

John stared at him. “Jeez, Rodney, I wasn't aware you were expecting me to do my wifely duty every night.”

“It's our vacation!” Rodney shouted, throwing up his hands. “We're supposed to be sipping margaritas and screwing like bunnies and doing nothing in particular. We're not supposed to spend it doing – menial labor. That's not my idea of a vacation.” He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly chilled. “Maybe it was a mistake to buy this place.”

“It was _your_ idea to buy this place,” John said, his voice low and even. “So why did you want to?”

Rodney opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “I,” he managed, “I, um, I wanted to because – well. Because I thought you'd like it.”

This time John crossed his arms. “Uh-huh.”

Rodney hung his head. “Right. I'm an idiot.”

John's skinny legs appeared in his field of vision right before he felt John's lips press against his forehead. “Quit moping and let me show you the joys of power tools.”

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Rodney lay back in the hot tub as the jets caressed his aching back. After three days of deck building, he was sore everywhere, he'd narrowly missed nailing his little toe, and he was fairly certain he couldn't get it up tonight if he swallowed a whole bottle of Viagra and watched John do a fan dance in the ass-hugging shorts.

None of which he minded, because he was sitting in a hot tub on his new deck. The deck he'd built with John.

“Hey.” Rodney looked up to see John holding out a bottle of beer to him as he stepped into the tub.

“Thanks,” Rodney said, taking it from him and taking a long pull.

John settled down beside him and leaned in. “You have sawdust in your hair.”

“Shhh,” Rodney said. “I'm admiring our deck.”

John bumped shoulders with him. “Feeling satisfied?”

“Ridiculously so.” Rodney took another drink. “I always thought –”

“What?”

Rodney waved his bottle at the deck and the tiki torches and the patio furniture and the barbecue. “That I was – above all this. I mean, that you couldn't derive any feeling of accomplishment from screwing two pieces of wood together, from building something with your hands.”

“Funny philosophy for an engineer,” John mused, taking a swig of his own beer.

“You know what I mean,” Rodney said.

“Yeah, I know,” John said. “Dad never picked up a hammer in his life, and when I married Nancy, we lived in a condo. I never did anything like this before. I convinced myself I wasn't missing anything. But it's pretty cool, isn't it?”

Rodney blinked at him. “You – what?”

“I said it's pretty –”

“No, no, before that,” Rodney interrupted, putting down his beer and turning to John. “Do you mean to tell me you've never built a deck before?”

John shrugged. “I helped a buddy replace his roof about twenty years ago,” he said. “Does that count?”

“No, it doesn't!” Rodney exclaimed. “My God, I thought you – you were an expert! I thought I was working under expert supervision!”

John frowned. “That vein in your forehead is starting to bulge again.”

“What if I did something wrong? You wouldn't know! This whole deck could be about to collapse right underneath us!”

John put down his own beer and took Rodney by the shoulders. “Rodney, Rodney, relax,” he said, obviously suppressing laughter. “The deck is just fine.”

“How do you know?” Rodney demanded.

John leaned in and kissed him, and Rodney stiffened for a moment – because this was serious, dammit, but, well, all right, he supposed a kiss couldn't hurt anything, and neither could a second one, or a third, and wait, what was the problem again?

“Because,” John murmured when they finally parted, “together, we can do anything. Especially when we have lasers.”

**Author's Note:**

> First published January 2009.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You're the One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286470) by [chellefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellefic/pseuds/chellefic)




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